Long Time Gone
by bisexualcharliedavis
Summary: "It wasn't just them you left behind." Charlie takes another sip. Stinging alcohol on his lips. "I know." She replied, taking the bottle. (Charlie/Mattie)


/in case y'all forgot I was Mattie/Charlie trash lol. Felt like trying something outside of my usual brand. So fluff it was. (warnings for implied sexy times)

"It wasn't just them you left behind." Charlie takes another sip. Stinging alcohol on his lips.

"I know." She replied, taking the bottle. She knocked back a sip and set it between them, a barrier perhaps. They're sitting behind Blake's desk, with a bottle of his best whiskey between them. Neither have said anything in over an hour. They've never had to really. Both of them are a little drunk, a little sad, a little worried.

Blake is still in hospital, but on the mend now. He will be home sooner rather then later. Neither of them have gone to see him, even though he asks after them constantly. Neither have an excuse to give to Jean.

"I didn't want to leave anyone behind." She murmured, glancing at Charlie, who has lit up a cigarette. He inhales deep into his lungs, letting it sit, before breathing out heavily.

"For God's sake Mattie you didn't even say goodbye!" He exclaimed. "Didn't call, didn't write, just left as if it didn't matter!" She turns a slight red.

"I didn't know what to say." She said, back. She doesn't bother defending herself. The only noise is the slosh as she takes another sip from the bottle. Charlie lets out a harsh breath, and rips the top off his box of cigarettes so that he can ash into it. Neither of them are sure how to move in the space the other occupies. How to move forward. "I thought you wouldn't want me to."  
"Why?" Charlie demanded, looking at her, a thin line of smoke obscuring the front of his nose.

"It was just one night."  
"It didn't have to be."  
"I know that. My God I know that." She said, putting her face into her hands. Both of them are quiet again, doing nothing to move backward for forward. Stuck in a horrible impasse.

"It was just one night." She repeated. Charlie has shut his eyes against her, sucking in smoke like air. "You think I owe you something because I let you touch me?" She demanded. "You're just a stupid boy." She told him, "Just like all of the others." Charlie doesn't look at her for some moments, just sits and smokes. He knocks back a sip of whiskey. He contemplates his next move.

Mattie snatches the bottle from him and knocks back way more then he had. Her hair is different now, more red then brown, falling around her face in fashionable waves. It's funny the things you notice, he thought, amazed that after all this time she could still look so lovely, and him? He was decomposing before their eyes. He continued to look at her, taking in the curve of breast and the roll of hip. He remembers those hips under his grasp, those lips pressed onto his collar bone, those fingers touching the bandage that held his ribs in place so soft, so gentle. He remembers everything, he always has.

He takes a drag from his cigarette. He lets it out.

"Say something." Mattie is speaking again. "Say something, Charlie, please." He doesn't. One small victory in the face of his largest defeat. Her voice gets soft, anger fizzled into sadness. "Please…" He takes a deep breath into his mouth and then lets it out. Mattie is looking at him earnestly, before realizing he won't speak She looks away, and takes a drink from the bottle. He lets the silence reign, it was where he worked best, in the silence. He looks up and out the window through the gap in the curtains up at the stars that twinkled pitifully over their heads, taunting them from a million years away. The moon is halfway to being full, but he's not sure if it's waxing or waning. It's enough light for him to see her, and for her to see him.

"The last time I saw you, was the morning that I left for Melbourne." He murmured, ashing his cigarette. "You were in my bed, asleep." He continued, "I was thinking about staying behind, with you. Kissing your face. Your neck. Your stomach...You." She is looking at him now, swallowing. "Jean knew the moment I came downstairs. She didn't tell me you were going. Neither of you did." He continued, pausing to have a drag from his cigarette. "And I was thinking to myself, when I left, that I would have to take you to the pictures. I was wondering what you might like to see, how we would get there, what I would wear, wondering if you liked popcorn or mints, wondering, idly, if we could sit in the back row, so I could put my arm around you." Mattie is blinking back her tears by now. "I brought flowers, on the way home, for you. Pretty things, roses, I think." He smiles at the moon as if they have a shared secret, in a way, they do. "I pretended they were for Mrs Beazley, when I realized." Several moments pass them by. "They both knew. Neither of them said anything about it. After you were gone, no one talked about you at all. Like you were a Danny or Munro." He is still sad, but he feels better for admitting it.

"I'm sorry."  
"It doesn't matter. There's nothing to say that we would have worked out. I hardly doubt that if you'd said something we'd be Mister and Missus Charlie Davis." He took the bottle from her. "Married life would never suit us anyway." He added, putting out his cigarette. She smiled slightly, and nodded in agreement.  
"You're probably right" She said, "That night, when we kissed, it felt like both the best and worst thing in the world. The best, because I was kissing you, the worst, because it was my last night in Ballarat." She pauses, "When you were with me, I was trying to memorize every detail of your body. Your arms. Your hands. Your chest…." she smiles. "I thought you were so beautiful." She murmured. There is a long, echoing pause. "And when you were gone, I was wondering if I should have told you. I didn't." She adds, after a pause. It is silent. Both of them are sitting in Blake's office, while he's in hospital, drinking his whiskey. It's an absurd situation, all things considered. Charlie thinks about lighting a second cigarette. Mattie is putting the top back on the whiskey. Neither of them are sure what to do now they've had this heart to heart.

After several long moments of stargazing and considering, Charlie turns to look at her. Mattie is looking at him. It takes them a moment to get it right for her hand to get to that spot that's just right on his shoulders, for his hand to fit to the curve of her jaw just so, but then, the press of lip on lip, forehead to forehead, it's perfect.

…

Charlie is dancing his hand along her hipbone under the blanket. It started at her shoulder and has been going down at a steady pace heading for her thighs. Mattie is letting it happen, one of her hands is tangled in his hair, as their lips meet over and over. They break apart, foreheads touching, noses bumping together occasionally, as they enjoy the company of the other.

"Will we work out?" Mattie, studying the depths of his eyes, trying to read his soul.  
"Hm?" Charlie in reply.

"Us."

"Why do you ask?"

"You mentioned, last night. That we might not have even worked out." Charlie shrugged, eyebrows raising customarily, wrinkling up his forehead against hers.

"Maybe we will. Maybe we won't."  
"Right."

"I do know one thing, though."

"What?"

"I would very much like to take you to the pictures." Mattie smiles, a thing that is as beautiful now as it ever was.

"I think I might enjoy that very much."

"So. I'll pick you up at half past five, then?" He asked, "Perhaps you would allow me to take you to dinner as well?" Mattie laughs now, and Charlie smiles back, stretching muscles that he was unsure he would ever use again.

"I think that I might allow that." She agrees, kissing him again. He kisses back, and they're smiling. The hurt is still here, he reflects, as he entwines their fingers, but it's out of the spotlight replaced with something warm and bubbling.


End file.
